Angel of the Morning
by StairwayToLucifer
Summary: On the 24th November 2014, at approximately 03:24:17, Dean Winchester makes the worse decision in his life. One month, three days, ten hours, two minutes and seventeen seconds later, he makes the best decision.


On the 24th November 2014, at approximately 03:24:17, Dean Winchester makes the worse decision in his life.  
And it's not like he hasn't made lots of bad decisions anyway, and, honestly, decision worked created to be decided early in the morning, while the decision-maker was so intoxicated that he didn't know up from down.  
He didn't even realise that he'd made that decision, until he woke up naked, turned to see if the lucky lady he'd slept with was still sleeping, and freaking _Cas_, angel of the freaking Lord, was sleeping next to him, and he determined that he was going to hell for devirginising an angel, no doubt about it. He fucking deflowered a fucking angel. A totally hot angel that he'd wanted to fuck for years, but still a fucking angel. He wriggled backwards, freaked by his discovery, and fell with a _thud_ onto the wooden motel floor. Castiel then appeared next to him, still naked, and inquired, "Dean is everything okay?" Dean nodded, struck by Castiel's sultry voice, as he stood up, "Yeah, sure." He stared at Castiel, for a minute, attempting to remember exactly what happened last night, but his memory was met by a big black hole. Castiel tilted his head, and asked, "Dean, are you sure?"  
"Yeah, Cas, um, I just- can you go?" Dean babbled, confused and unaware of what the situation should lead to. Castiel bent his head, "Oh, I see- I apologise, Dean," hurt etched onto his face, quite alike a kicked puppy, which broke Dean's heart. Dean wondered whether that was intentional, but then remembered that Cas was Cas, and that it must have been completely unintentional. He began, "Cas, don't-" but the angel disappeared before he could finish his sentence. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, reaching into his duffle bag, and pulling out his clothes, hoping that Sam didn't know about his escapade.

Three days later, Dean was helping Sam research for their next case, and doing a great job at forgetting his fling with Castiel, when Castiel appeared behind Sam. Dean ignored him, absorbed in his research, which, duly noted, was incredibly not-him, but it was his coping method for the week. Beside coating his motel room with Enochian sigils and hiding there until it all passed over, but he then remembered that Castiel was a frigging angel, and it would never pass over, so he'd just have to man up and deal with it. "Hello Dean," Castiel said, reluctantly. Sam jumped, flinging _A Detailed Guide to Bunyips_, across the room. He turned to face Castiel, and asked, "Where've you been? I've been praying for days!"  
"I thought that it would be best if I was to stay away," Castiel said, gloomily. Sam frowned, befuddled, and asked, "Why." Castiel gave Dean a disconcerted look that read _he doesn't know?_ Dean nodded, and Castiel lied, "Because I gave Dean the wrong information. I thought that you would be mad." Dean then realised that the hurt look he was showing Sam was exactly the same as the one from three days ago, and that it had been absolutely intentional then. _That bastard_, he thought, but said nothing, and watched as Sam flustered, "Why would you think that?" and then turned to Dean, "What was the information?" Castiel raised his eyebrows inquisitively, giving Dean a _yes, what was the information_ look. Dean mumbled, "Well, like Cas said, it was the wrong information, so-" he trailed off, and then added, for effect, "And you don't want to know what it was." He hoped that this answer would be enough to tell Sam not to investigate further into what they were doing that night. Castiel then interjected, "I am required to speak to Dean. Alone."  
_Oh shit_, Dean thought, _he's going to ask about our relationship. I am not ready for this_, and then reached for his half-drank beer bottle. Sam nodded, standing up, and grabbing his laptop, "Well, I'm going to go to the library. For research," and rushed out of the room, avoiding Dean's desperate _please don't leave I don't want to talk to him_ gaze. As soon as the door slammed behind Sam, Castiel sat down, awkwardly. "Dean," he started, but Dean interrupted him, blabbering madly and nervously rubbing his sweaty palms, "I was drunk, Cas. Whatever I said-" but Castiel intervened, "When we copulated, Dean, I was in heat."  
"_What?_" Dean catechised, "Does that mean we're mates or something?"  
"Not exactly," Castiel hesitated, before pulling an egg out of what Dean would have thought was his ass, if Dean hadn't known better. The egg had a smooth texture, and was a shade of pale yellow, and was practically glowing. "This is ours," Castiel smiled, holding it out to Dean, who wondered whether Cas had finally cracked. He stared, frozen by Castiel's announcement. "That's a kid?" he asked, alarmed. Castiel nodded, as his fingers soothed the egg. Dean rubbed the nape of his neck, and gawked at the egg, "Couldn't you have said anything before?"  
"You were inebriated. It would not have mattered anyway," Castiel said, as if the answer was already obvious. He held out the egg again, and Dean took it from his hands, "So, this," he ogled at the egg, "Is our child?" Castiel nodded tilting his head, his eyes reading, _have you not been listening to our conversation?_ and Dean placed the egg cautiously on the table. "Why me?" he asked, as he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair, attempting to remain calm. Castiel's eyes widened, "I thought you knew."  
Dean shook his head, "I got no idea." Castiel looked down, adjusting the button on his shirt sleeve, for which Dean was surprised that Castiel even knew that that even existed. Dean waited, impatiently, dreading his answer, and yet he wanted Castiel to tell him- no. He didn't want Castiel to tell him anything. He wasn't ready for anything, especially after how much he hurt Lisa. That was his problem. He hurt everyone he touched.  
However, because God hates Dean, or at least he was trying to tell him something, Castiel admitted, "I love you, Dean. I always have, ever since I first came across your soul in Perdition." Dean stiffened, abashed by Castiel's proclamation, and Castiel stared at him, and then looked down, sadly, "You do not feel the same way." Dean shook his head, and grabbed the egg, "No, I do. I love you too, Cas, I just- I'm not ready. What with Lisa, and Cassie, and pretty much everyone- I hurt people. Castiel tilted his head, "You are afraid," he sensed, gingerly. Dean sighed, rubbing his eyes, "Well, no shit Sherlock! You've got a freaking egg! And that egg is a fucking child! Our child is a fucking egg!" Castiel held the egg, carefully, clearly distressed by Dean's statement. Dean clenched his fists together, wanting to punch himself for being an idiot, "Cas, I didn't mean-" but the angel disappeared, along with the egg.

Thirty days of Dean praying for Castiel later, he finally appeared, looking flustered and tired, holding a bundle of blankets in his hands. "What happened?" Dean asked, "Is everything okay?" Castiel nodded, and unwrapped the blankets to reveal a sleeping baby that looked barely a few days old. The baby had blue eyes, just like Castiel's, and ruffled blonde hair, like Dean's had once been. Holy shit. Dean stared at the baby, in shock. Castiel answered, "This is your son. He has no name," and gestured for Dean to hold him. Dean delicately lifted the baby boy from Castiel arms, and held him, feeling the world melt around him as he fell in love with his child. _His_ child. It was so weird, that he finally had a family, after so many years of hoping and wishing. The baby awoke, and reached his tiny hand out, as Dean raised his finger over his tiny body. The boy clasped the hand, and Dean's heart melted. He glanced up, and realised that Castiel was experiencing the same feeling. "He has no name?" Dean asked, and Castiel explained, "I was hoping that perhaps we could name him together. If you'd like to try, we could raise him together."  
"Yeah," Dean smiled, looking down at his son, "We could try."  
And on the 27th December 2014, at approximately 13:26:34, Dean Winchester makes the best decision in his life.


End file.
